


The Book

by angel1972



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Once Upon a Time (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Is a Good Bro, F/M, Gen, Lame Titile - Sorry!, Natasha has a secret past, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:45:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel1972/pseuds/angel1972
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha visits Storybrooke to fulfill a prophecy, and repay a debt.</p><p>Clint's there for morale support, and to pick up chicks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Not sure where this came from. But it's been tossing around in my head for a while, and I decided to finally put it down on paper. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters used within this story are the property of their respective owners, and are being used without their express permission. No copyright infringement was intended, and no profit was made from this writing.

_There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamed of in your philosophy. Hamlet act 1, scene 5._

Clint was used to be stared at.

That was a lie: no he wasn't.

At least not any longer, the days of circus performing having been purged from his system long ago. Now his place was high above reigning havoc upon his enemies, or down below in the shadows striking without being seen, and then disappearing without a trace.

'I take it you don't get many visitors in this neck of the woods?' he asked his waitress. His eyes flickered downward so he could read her name tag. 

'I can count on one hand the amount of strangers we've had, and still have fingers left over,' Ruby – the waitress – said. 

Her hips were cocked, and the look she was giving him reminded him of a wolf on the prowl. She was a young woman who was very obviously flirting with him, and he would have been flirting right back if it weren't for two things. The first was he was on a (sort of) mission, and second her grandmother looked like she wanted to tear him apart with her teeth.

'That's too bad,' Clint said. He handed over his menu having ordered for him and his partner. 'Storybrooke is a nice little town, reminds me a little bit of my hometown.'

'Oh? So you're from a flea speck of a town too?'

Clint nodded his head, and took a long draw from coffee cup.

'So why aren't you there now? You know, since it's so wonderful and all.'

The blond huffed a laugh. 'Because it's a flea speck of a town, and I didn't want to die of boredom. Though the way my job's been going lately, maybe a little boredom isn't such a bad thing.' 

'Really? And what – '

_'Ruby! You have other customers to take care of, stop lollygagging, and get to work!'_

'Yes, grandma,' the brunette said with a sigh. 'Sorry, I gotta go. Will you be around later? I get out at three. We could get drinks.'

'I'm not quite sure what my plans are,' Clint said. 'But if I am around, maybe I'll come by to see you. Now why don't you get to work before your grandmother kills us both.'

Ruby smiled, and took her leave. And if there was a little more swagger in her walk, Clint was not complaining about it. (All right he was lying, he was flirting with her a little bit.)

'New friend?' Natasha asked as she slipped into the seat across from her partner moments later.

'I'm a friendly kind of guy. Chicks dig me.'

'At least until they date you. Then the only digging they want to do is a shallow grave.'

Clint placed his hand over his heart like he was hurt. 'You hurt my very soul with your words,' he said. 

'I'll hurt your nose if you don't stop being an ass.'

'Fine. So? Mission accomplished?'

The redhead nodded. 'Ordered me breakfast?'

'Strawberry pancakes, extra whipped cream, and hot chocolate with cinnamon,' Clint responded with a shake of his head. It never ceased to amaze the archer that a woman so badass could have such a sweet tooth.

While they waited for their food, the two spies observed the coming and goings of the townsfolk in a comfortable silence. Though mostly Clint observed Ruby as she worked. 

Natasha, on the other hand, stared at the patrons with a mix of relief, and sadness over the fact that they didn't recognize her, staring at her like she was a complete stranger. (Though in all honesty, she was only 10 when she saw them last.) Still, if the others knew who she was, what she had done, how her ledger was drenched in the red of blood, and lies, they would hate her. 

But according to the seers she had a destiny to fulfill, and that meant swallowing her trepidations, and doing what she had to to help break the curse. 

'I don't understand something,' Clint said after their food arrived, and Ruby had once again taken her leave. 'You worked, and slaved on that book for years. Why would you just give it away like that? And to someone you don't even know.'

Natasha frowned at the question, and scanned the area in the off chance that someone could overhear them, and the even more off chance that they would understand what they were talking about. Which was preposterous since the only person not under the curse was the evil queen, and it was highly doubtful she would be hanging around here. 

Still, the woman had eyes, and ears everywhere, so it was best to be vigilant.

'That book wasn't for me,' Natasha finally answered quietly. 'It was never for me. It was a debt that I needed to pay back.' And a prophecy she needed to fulfill, and the person she gave it to was certainly no stranger. But she kept that information to herself, even though she would have liked to have told him that.

'Geez, Nat,' Clint said as he stabbed his scrambled eggs with a fork. 'Your whole life seems to be ruled by debts: me, this other person, your ledger. When are you going to start living your life for yourself? You don't owe me anything.'

'I owe you _everything_ , Clint. And until I pay that back, until I wipe my ledger clean, I can't possibly just live my life.'

Clint sighed. It wasn't the first time they had this conversation, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. There was just no way of making her understand that he defied orders, risked his very career, because he believed that she deserved a chance at a life of her own. He didn't want to be owed anything.

'It's still a shame, that was a beautiful book. You're an excellent artist. You could have published it and made a mint. They'd probably make a TV show based on it.'

The redhead rolled her eyes. 'A show about fairy tales? What's next? Us as superheroes?'

'Stranger things have happened,' the blond said with a shrug.

And while they ate, Natasha couldn't help but agree with her partner. Stranger things have happened, will happen, and they were sitting in the midst of one of those strange things right now.

And that book, which he thought was nothing but words and pictures? Was actually a history of a people not unlike the ones in _his_ world, but in some ways they were completely different, completely strange.

One day though, she would like to tell him everything. Clint was her best friend, her brother, and her savior all rolled into one. It felt wrong to keep such information from him. But he wouldn't understand, he certainly wouldn't believe her if he told him that she wasn't born in this world. That she was actually a princess. 

She'd like to tell him all about her adventures in the fairy tale kingdom. That the woman he was flirting with, and her grandmother were both werewolves, and that she had hung around with Snow White, and Prince Charming. She'd like to tell him that were indeed hard working dwarfs who whistled while they worked, and an evil queen, who killed her family.

She'd also liked to tell him about portals in hats, and the prediction that that she would find her soul-mate in a land without magic.

But not today.

Today she would eat her breakfast and drink her hot chocolate. She was going to bite her tongue when she saw someone familiar, and she won't call out to them with the right/wrong name.

And maybe, just maybe, if she could screw up enough courage, when the curse was broken she would come visit them. And maybe, just maybe, they would forgive her for betraying everything they believed in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters of this story belong to their respective owners and are being used without their express permission for entertainment purposes only. 
> 
> In all honesty, I had no intention of continuing this story. But I kept coming up with ideas, and little scenes so I decided to see if I could string them together into some semblance of a story. 
> 
> So this all take place between Captain America 2 and the Frozen storyline.
> 
> And I'm still not sure who Natasha's true love is. 
> 
> No beta was used in writing this story, so please pardon any missed typos or other mistakes.
> 
> ======
> 
> What's in a name? that which we call a rose  
> By any other name would smell as sweet;  
> So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,  
> Retain that dear perfection which he owes (Romeo and Juliet: act 2 scene 2)

Clint pulled back the bowstring, and let loose another arrow, and another bull's-eye. He then gave an exaggerated bow for the benefit of the two ladies he was with. Ruby applauded his efforts, her mouth spread in a wide grin as she watched her boyfriend challenge her best friend to an archery contest. Snow on the other hand made an exaggerated yawn, before pushing him aside to take his place at the shooting line.

Several moments later her arrow joined his in the center circle. 

“Not bad for an amateur,” Clint said. He was leaning against a tree, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his low-riding jeans, he was wearing a tight purple t-shirt and his ever present purple sunglasses. On his feet were purple sneakers. 

“Amateur?” Snow said in mock outrage. She picked up a rock and threw it at him, purposely throwing wide, knowing full well he could duck it. “You're a jerk.”

“And you're a violent woman,” Clint rejoined. His tone was full of sadness and regret. “All those stories about you being pure and sweet, all of them were lies. I feel as if my childhood just got punched in the face.”

“Poor, poor Clint,” Ruby said from her perch on a tree stump. She sidled up to him, and stood on tiptoes to give a closed-mouthed consolatory kiss, which the blond received gladly with a smile. Snow greeted this exchange with mock gag noises, but inwardly she was happy that her best friend had found someone. She was glad that she had finally healed from the death of Peter to let Clint in, and she sincerely hoped that he was her true love.

Ruby deserved it after everything she had been through. Hell, they all deserved some happiness and peace after everything they had been through.

The three adults continued their banter. It hadn't taken long for the blond archer to strike up a friendship with fellow archer Mary Margret. It certainly didn't take long for Ruby and Clint to continue their flirting from the last time he visited, years ago, and from there it progressed into dating. 

He hadn't seemed bothered in the least that his girlfriend could turn into a wolf, as a matter of fact he thought it was just about the coolest thing ever. He also took in stride the fact that the other denizens of this sleepy little town were characters from the story books he grew up with. Somehow dating Little Red Riding Hood, and hanging with the seven dwarfs was not as shocking considering he just fairly recently fought alongside a Norse god, a giant green monster, and a living American legend that had just woken from a nearly 70 year nap.

(Though how in the hell did his sister-in-arms, Natasha, know these people was a mystery he had yet to solve.)

It was hard for him to believe that it's been nearly two months since the fall of SHIELD. He had no idea that the organization that he swore his fidelity to was rotten to the core. He felt dirty, and used, and couldn't help but wonder how many innocent people he had helped kill.

At least when Loki had control over him, he cold fall back on the excuse that he was under the trickster god's control. He had no such excuse for serving under HYDRA. He never questioned their orders, except for the one time when he spared the redhead's life. He never even thought to question that SHIELD was anything but the good guys, and he couldn't help but wonder how many of the men and women that he had joked with were actually wolves in sheep's clothing.

What was worst was that he dragged Natasha into all this. She joined SHIELD on his word, because she believed him when he said that she could clean up her ledger by working for the good guys. He had been certain she hated him.

Thankfully for him though, he still checked their secret drop boxes. If he hadn't he would have missed the letter addressed to him, telling him to return to Storybrooke asap. There were several other letters in there, the names were all familiar, and he was certain that the letters were all the same.

Save for a few lines that Clint was certain were only in his letter.

It's not your fault that SHIELD was corrupt. I do not hate you, you are my brother. Do not blame yourself, or I will smack the taste right out of your mouth.

He nearly cried when he read those lines. And he high-tailed it back to Maine in the hopes that she would already be there. Natasha wasn't there, but there were several other agents there, and a week later, Coulson and his group made their way into town, a little worse for wear, but still in one piece (thank God!).

It seemed as if their favorite redheaded Russian had been busy writing letters, making sure that the few good agents that she knew of had a place of safety to stay until something could be figured out. By the end of a month there nearly 20 disposed agents, many with spouses and children. All total there were now 35 new residents to the sleepy little town.

But still no Natasha.

Where could she be, Clint wondered, and not for the first time. She should not be going through this alone.

“Are you thinking about Natasha?” Ruby asked, breaking into his wandering thoughts. There was a part of her that felt as if she should be jealous of the female-spy, but she couldn't. There was something heartrendingly familiar about her, as if they had met in a previous life. But she just couldn't place her, and there was no way that the infamous Black Widow was ever a residence of the Enchanted Forest.

Right?

“I'm sorry, was it that obvious?”

“Yeah you kind of drifted it off for a while there,” Snow said, she too saw something familiar about the redheaded woman, and she too couldn't place where. “She'll be okay. I'm certain of it.”

“But you saw how those politicians were practically grilling her over an open flame last month. They wanted to eviscerate her,” Clint said. He picked up his quiver and bow, and the three of adults made their way to Granny's where Snow was to meet her family and Clint and Red were to start their shifts at the diner. He hadn't liked the look in Natasha's eyes one bit. He knew that while other people saw a cold indifference, he saw someone who was alone in the world.

He wondered if it was always that way for her.

=

In the far northern region of the Enchanted Forest, there was a small but influential country called Rossiya where Natasha Romanoff, ex-KGB, ex-SHIELD agent, and most likely ex-Avenger, was born as Princess Anastasia Natalia Alianovna Romanova. She was born on the coldest day of the year to a loving mother and father, and an older brother who was 15 years her senior. She was cherished, and adored by her people who saw her as a miracle, and the answer to her parents prayers that they would have a daughter. 

(They had no idea Rumpelstiltskin's part in her conception, which was just as well, since even in the far north, the Dark One was known as a force of pure evil.)

On her eighth birthday, she was presented to the people of her kingdom, and the representatives that had come from the southern, eastern, and western realms to pay their respects. Snow White and her step mother, Regina were present, and watched as the tiny child received her gold crown with all the gravitas that a eight-year-old could muster.

Afterwords there was food, and wine, and mingling. King Leopold had stayed behind to take care of the kingdom, but he thought sending his beloved daughter, and second wife would be a good way for the younger woman to learn the fine art of diplomacy. The northern kingdom was small, but they were powerful in their own way, having the only reserve of a metal called vibranium. 

'How do they stand the cold?' Snow White muttered. She pulled her fur-lined coat closer, but she still let loose a shiver. There were brazers dotting the large courtyard, all of them with fires crackling, and yet it seemed to the princess as if she would never be warm again. 

Regina frowned at the princess, wanting very badly to tell her to toughen up. 

'Haven't you heard the rumors?' the queen said instead in a conspiratorial tone. She liked giving little morsels of camaraderie to Snow, just to throw her off. It just made it that much more entertaining when she did something cruel. 'The royal family has ice instead of blood running through their veins.' 

Snow snickered quietly before turning her attention to the dais in front of the court. The small redheaded princess sat on her throne with her parents and brother. She swung her legs, and waved at all the royals of the various kingdoms that had come to pay their respects to her. Her smile was wide and genuine, and her parents looked down at her with indulgent expressions. Her brother on the other hand looked very put out by the whole affair.

Regina wasn't quite sure whether that was envy, or boredom in his eyes, but either way the wheels of her mind were turning. Rumpelstiltskin had told her in order for her to enact the curse she would need at least a pond of vibranium, but it was highly unlikely that the royal family would simply give it her. They guarded it more jealously than leprechauns guarded their pot of gold. (And she knew that from personal experience.)

The only alternative was to steal it, or trick one of the royal brats into giving it to her. And she may have found her ticket with Dmitri. 

'Come along Snow, let's go pay our respects to the royal family.' Regina didn't wait for an answer, she strode over to the dais leaving the younger woman to scramble to catch up. 

She caught up to her step-mother just as she was giving a courteous, but perfunctory bow to the king and queen. Snow followed suit.

Once introductions, and formalities were over, the queen got off her throne, and took Regina's hands. 'It's so good to finally meet you,' the queen said. Her voice was as warm and sweet as honey. There was nothing in her eyes but a kind acceptance that gave the younger queen pause. As the king's second wife Regina was use to being looked down upon and compared unfavorably to the first queen. 'We were so sorry to have missed your wedding, I hope you at least enjoyed our gifts to you and Leopold.'

'They were lovely,' Regina said, and in at least this point she didn't have to lie. The twin black horses did indeed look lovely pulling her carriage. 

'I picked them out,' Anastasia said. Her little chest puffed out in pride.

'Then you must have a good eye for horses,' Snow said in cloying tones. And Regina had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the princess's condescending tone. 

The little princess beamed at the compliment, before turning to her parents and asking if she could have some of the sweets.

'When Nikolai comes back then you can go,' her mother said. 

Nikolai was Anastasia's personal bodyguard, and trainer. It was tradition that the eldest child was the heir to the throne, and for the second child, regardless of sex, to become first knight to the kingdom. The young redhead was training in all matter of fighting: from hand-to-hand to how to use a sword and shield.

'I can take her over there and keep an eye on her,' Snow volunteered quickly. 'I was going to get something to eat myself, so it's no trouble.'

The king and queen quickly agreed, and the two princess made their way to the desert table which was plied high with cakes and pastries. After each getting a plate with enough pastries to more than fill them, they made their way out to the balcony where they sat on a stone bench in front of one of the large brazers. 

The moon was high and full, and the air was crisp and clean. There was a multitude of stars twinkling in the sky, but the brightest one, as all ways, was the northern star. 

'Did you see all the presents I got?' the little girl asked after a few moments. Her mouth was fill of something flaky and chocolate-filled. 'I can't wait to see what I got.'

Snow chuckled. 'Are you hoping for anything in particular?'

'A baby brother would be nice, or a puppy.'

The older princes nearly choked on her cake. 'I think you may be disappointed on the baby brother front.'

Anastasia made a disappointed noise before continuing to eat. 'I don't think your step-mother likes you,' the redhead said out of the blue. 'She looks at you the same way that Dmitri looks at me when he thinks I'm not looking.'

'And how does she look at me?'

'Like she wishes you were never born.'

The elder princess frowned at that, she wasn't as naive as everyone thought, she knew there was tension between her and Regina. Sometimes the queen looked at her with barely suppressed anger that sent a shiver down her spine. She wished she knew what she had done that could win such animosity: she wished she knew how she could fix it.

They were family after all, and family was everything.

Princess Snow shook her head of those thoughts. 'Let's not talk about such serious things on your birthday. You should be having fun.'

The redheaded princess grinned widely. 'Okay. Do you want to hear what the seer said?'

The elder princes nodded her head.

'He said that I would find my soul-mate in a land without magic, all I had to do was follow the northern star.'

'A land without magic?' Snow asked deeply puzzled. As far as she knew there were only the kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest, and magic was everywhere. 'Is there such a thing? Do you know where it is?'

The little girl shrugged her shoulders. She had never heard of such a place either, but the seer swore it was the truth, and she believed him. He told him that she would be a great hero in that land, and that she was the key to everything. 

He didn't tell her what everything was: he said the answers would come to her in due time. But in the meanwhile it was important to learn storytelling, and art.

'Well you have plenty of time to figure that out. You are still a little too young to be thinking of soul-mates.'

'I know, but I like the idea that somewhere in some kingdom, there's someone out there waiting for me to find them. I don't even care if he's a prince, I just want him to be a good man.'

Snow smiled in agreement, and hoped for the same thing for herself; a good man with a pure heart, who would all ways find her no matter how lost she became.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: I think this is going to be a long meandering mess of a story. And I still have no idea who Natasha's true love, though I do three candidates depending on where I take the story.

_I'm damaged_  
_But somehow I managed_  
_This far_  
_But I don't think I can find my way back home_

_Assemblage 23: Damaged_

 

Steve sighed in frustration, and ran his hand through his blond hair. 

The folder, that Natasha had managed to procure for him, was pushed to the side showing wear from constantly being handled. A map was pinned to the wall with thumbtacks placed in various locations that he, and Sam had been to. Papers were shewn all over a makeshift table in a rundown hotel in the middle of a country that he could barely pronounce. Old black and white photos were interspersed amongst the mess, and Steve's eyes were both repelled and drawn to the images they contained. 

He could feel anger bubbling inside of him like water in a tea kettle, and he clutched his fists, and closed his eyes tightly in a futile effort to keep control. 

Natasha had warned him about pulling on that particular thread, and a part of him was thinking he should have heeded her words. He was starting to lose hope that there was nothing but the Winter Soldier, that whatever humanity was left had been wiped away.

But he had saved you, a tiny voice in the back of Steve's mind whispered stubbornly, he dragged you out of the river. He's your brother, you can't give up on him.

Still the things that had been done to his best friend, Bucky, was absolutely barbaric, monstrous even: constant mind wipes to keep him pliable, the years spent in a cryogenic tube to rob him of his freedom, and the buying and selling of him like he was a used car.

Steve took in a long shuddering breath and released it. Then in a fit of rage he upturned the table with a strangled cry of frustration spilling everything in a heap on the floor. He watched as papers fluttered slowly to the floor as he stood seething in the middle of the room feeling impotent and helpless. He looked down at his fists, clutched tight enough to to turn his knuckles white. They were completely useless, there was no enemy to punch, no enemy to kick, there was only a past that could not be changed, and a feeling of endless despair.

This new body they gave him was suppose to be able to protect the people who were most important to him. And yet it felt as if the one time it really and truly mattered, he failed. He failed to keep Bucky from falling, he failed to keep him from becoming a human guinea pig. He should have been stronger, faster, better. If he had, his best friend, his brother, would have lived a nice normal life, gotten married had a boat load of kids. 

Just like Peggy.

Peggy had lived a long and full life, which was only a small solace to his anger-fueled mind. It should have been him in those pictures. Those children should have been theirs. They had earned their happy ending trough blood, and sweat, and pure grit.

But the world was cruel, and fate was crueler, and time waited for no man. Not even for one frozen in ice for nearly 70 years.

Peggy was old, and her mind was no longer all there. 

And Bucky would never be the same, even if he was still alive.

And he was stuck in this century alone. 

He wanted to scream, to cry, to rail against cruelness of fate which seemed bound and determined to take everything away from him and leave him with nothing. Instead he flopped onto the couch and held his head in his hands. 

Sam returned shortly to find Steve in that same position, having not moved for nearly 20 minutes.

“I'm sorry. I'll clean it in a few minutes,” the blond said.

The younger male placed a reassuring hand on his partner's shoulder, and gave it squeeze. Having counseled returning veterans for a number of years, he recognized the look of utter defeat in Steve. It was not uncommon for returning men and women to feel out of sync with their family and friends when they returned from their tours. The black man could not even fathom how out of sync Steve must have felt after literally decades away. 

And yet, he had to give the blond man all the credit in the world. Steve did his best to catch up on technology, to come to terms with new social norms, even though Sam knew some of them rankled him to the point where he had to just walk away.

“Don't worry about it, okay? Why don't you set up for dinner,” Sam said. He passed a bulging plastic bag to the super-soldier. The smells emanating from it were enticing, and despite himself, Steve's stomach gurgled at the prospect of being filled. “I have no idea what exactly I got but it looked good, so hopefully we don't both end up with food poisoning.”

A reluctant smile spread across Steve's mouth. “If you do, I'll make sure to hold your hair back when you vomit.”

“Aw, and they say chivalry is dead.”

While Sam cleaned up, the blond emptied the bag on their small nightstand. It looked to him like a hodgepodge of random Russian cuisine. He recognized most of the dishes from the war, and time spent with Natasha. Despite her claims of no longer being Russian, she still enjoyed the cuisine, and was more than happy to take him to her favorite restaurant where they would order half the menu, and a couple of bottles of expensive vodka.

He couldn't get drunk, but he enjoyed the company, and he enjoyed the food, and for awhile at least, he no longer felt as if he were a stranger in his own country, his own world.

“You okay, Steve?”

“Yeah,” the blond said with a chuckle. “I was just thinking about the last time Natasha dragged me to her favorite Russian restaurant. We must have consumed 400 dollars worth of food and vodka.”

Sam made a face. “Don't tell me she made you pay for it?”

“No,” the blond said with a devilish smirk. “Tony did.”

“Tony? Tony Stark!? What did she do? Steal one of his credit cards?”

“It was a corporate account, from when she was his P.A.. He never took it back, or canceled it, so she on occasion uses it.”

“I think that might be illegal,” Sam said with a laugh. 

“It's not illegal if you don't get caught, or at least that what she said. Besides I don't think even Tony has the stones to say no Natasha.”

The black man merely nodded his head in agreement, and continued to pick papers off the floor. He had only known the redhead for a short time, but he could tell she was a force of nature. He doubted anyone could say no to her.

And speaking of the devil . . .

“Steve, look at this.” In the younger man's hand was a slip of paper in Natasha's distinctive loopy scrawl. There was a short message and coordinates on it.

The blond looked over at the slip, and shook his head in bemusement. She had put a little emoji at the end of the note: a smiling, winking face. She was the only adult he knew that would do that, and he couldn't help but smile a bit. 

“We should check it against the map to make sure, but I think that's Maine.”

“Maine? Why would she send us there?'”

Steve shrugged, who knew what went through the redhead's mind. But the thought of taking a break, recuperating, and starting out again with fresh eyes did sound appealing. But what was more appealing was the hope that Natasha was there.

==

Natasha should have been in Storybrooke proper, but she wasn't. She should have made a beeline to Granny's to rejoin her compatriots, who she knew would be worried about her, after the senate hearings. But she couldn't. 

Instead she was in the old sorcerer's mansion wondering down the familiar halls, running her hands along familiar wood panels as memories of time spent here washed over her. Everything was as she remembered, except it felt empty, deserted like the sorcerer and his apprentice had just up and disappeared. Even the air felt stale, musty like it hadn't been used in ages.

Not that the mansion was ever a bustling place. On occasion a member of royalty traveling with an entourage would stop over for either advice or a potion, very rarely did they stay the night, but those instances were few and far between. For the majority of the time it was just her and the apprentice. 

She entered a smaller room, and took the seat across from an old mahogany desk. 

She remembered sitting in this very room when he handed her the quill . . . .

_“That, my Dear, is the most powerful weapon, in your arsenal,” the apprentice said. “It is more powerful then any weapon you'll ever learn to use as a knight of the realm.”_

_The eight-year-old redhead was skeptical, and her expression plainly showed it. There was noway that a quill would ever best a sword, or knife, or even a bow and arrow. If she wanted to, she could break it into two with her bare hands._

_“You don't believe me, do you?” the old man said kindly._

_Natasha shook her head. She raised the quill so she could better study it, but still she saw nothing special about it._

_“It's the words you write with this quill that makes it more powerful then any weapon forged.”_

_“Then why not give it to my brother? He's much better with words than I am.”_

_“Maybe so, but the quill picked you. It saw something in you that your brother lacked. He does not believe in Happy Endings or true love. But you do. That was why it chose you. You have the heart of the truest believer.”_

_Little Natasha stared down at the quill, her eyes filled with wonder . . ._

The adult redhead shook her head as her mind caught up with present. She no longer had the heart of the truest believer, that belonged to a boy in Storybrooke, and she was tempted to give the quill and a blank book to him. But there was something that stopped her. The quill had chosen her, and charged her with writing the book, she couldn't bring herself to relinquish that responsibility even though she knew she was the worst person for the job.

And there was still a part of her that didn't want to let Charming or Snow or Red down either, even though she had no idea how to believe anymore. 

Natasha ran a hand through her hair, and sighed. And then there was Coulson and his team. She knew they were waiting for some word from her that Fury was alive and that SHIELD wasn't dead that there was something left to rebuild, because the world still needed to be protected.

Despite what she had said to the congress, she on the other hand, thought that maybe letting SHIELD and the Avengers Initiative die would be a good idea. 

Did the world really need spies and superheroes?

Fury seemed to think so.

He hadn't trusted her with his fake death, but he trusted her enough to seek her out and give her the means to restart SHIELD.

In her coat pocket was a small black box with all the information needed to do just that. She could do it herself, or she could hand it over to the only person she trusted with something this big and this potentially dangerous: Phil Coulson.

The question was: should it be restarted?

It had become corrupt once, what's to stop it from it from becoming corrupt again? 

“Enjoying yourself, dearie?”

Natasha gave a small sigh before turning around to face her uninvited guest.


	4. Chapter 4

Regina Mills stalked down the streets of Storybrooke with a perpetual scowl on her face. Not only had she been once again robbed of her happy ending by one of those insufferable Charmings, but now she had to put up with a whole gaggle of strangers in her town. (Though she had to admit the newcomers were respectful to a fault, calling her ma'am, and not giving her dirty, distrustful looks.) 

Mary Margret didn't seem the least bit bothered that people from the outside world had taken refuge here, (Regina had a suspicion her nonplussed attitude was due to Henry) only curious as to how they managed to find the town in the first place.

But Regina was more than curious, and getting answers was going on her 'to do' list right next to finding out who wrote that book so she could demand her happy ending.

She paused at the door of Granny's, and took a deep breath, the bag of comics weighed heavy in her hand. She was meeting her son here, and that was reason enough to put aside her anger and frustration for a little while. Regina didn't want to give Henry any reason to think she was going back to the dark side, not when she needed his help in tracking down the author. 

When she entered the diner several people looked towards her before going back to what they were doing. Some of the faces were familiar, and some weren't but she did notice that the newcomers had all taken strategic places throughout the dining area. They were places that allowed maximum surveillance, and defensibility.

After a quick surveillance of her own, she made her way to the counter where her son was having a very animated conversation with Clint Barton. 

“Regina, just the woman I wanted to see.”

The mayor rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the small smile. “What concoction have you come up with this time?”

It had become a bit of game with them, (one that she would never admit to liking). She would come into the diner, and Clint would have some new drink that he wanted her to try. Usually they were some ridiculous blend of spices and hot chocolate that made her fight the urge to gag. 

“You'll like this one. Trust me.”

“That's what you said the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that.”

“All right, all right, I admit rosemary and thyme in hot chocolate was not my best idea. But I promise this time will different.”

Regina sighed in exasperation. “Fine, go make your weird drink, and I'll try not to gag.”

Clint smiled brightly, and hustled into the kitchen.

“He is a strange man,” Regina said with a shake of her head. “Are you sure he's some kind of a superhero?”

Henry nodded his head. “Admit it, you like him.”

“I will not,” she said with stubborn tilt to her head.

The boy chuckled. He knew she was lying. He knew that his mother thought of Clint as an annoying younger brother, and that she actually enjoyed that he took time out his day to try to come up with a drink that was just for her.

“You know, he says you remind him of his partner.”

“The Black Widow? What could I possibly have in common with a do-gooder like her?”

Henry nodded, before he let the smile fall from his face. “He said that she wasn't always a good person, but that she works hard to make up for the bad things she did.”

Regina had nothing to say to that, so she merely hummed in response before handing over the small stack of comics to her son and proposing 'Project Mongoose'. Henry was aboard it immediately, not only for the cloak and dagger aspect but also because he desperately wanted his mother to have her happy ending. He was even willing to take a job at Rumpelstiltskin's shop to see if there was any information there.

“Should we tell Clint?' Henry asked. “He was a spy after all.”

The former mayor paused in thought, but then shook her head. “Not right now. Let's see what the two of us can come up with before we go to outside help.”

A moment later the archer came from the kitchen with a steaming mug which he placed in front of a very skeptical Regina. 

“I swear if I end up in the hospital with food poisoning again, I'll turn you into a toad.” But she picked up the mug anyway, and took a tentative sip. It was warm and spicy with just the right amount of sweetness.

“This is good,' Regina admitted after several more sips. “It reminds me of . . .”

“Apple pie,” Clint said triumphantly. “It's actually apple cider and chai.”

“And just think, it only took you a month of trial and error and one trip to the ER for you to get it right.” But despite her words, her tone was chiding. (And if that doesn't speak miles about what she thought of the Avenger, nothing would.)

“I did say I was sorry, didn't I?” the blond said sheepishly. 

“Keep making these, and maybe one of these days I'll forgive you.”

 

======

 

Natasha gave the man a once over. He didn't look like the mottled faced imp that she had known in the Enchanted Forest, or even the sly dark-haired court-vizor of Rossiya, but then she hardly looked like the knobby kneed little princess she had been the last time they had met.

“Rumpelstiltskin, I presume.'”

“You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I don't know who you are, and I know who everyone who steps foot in this town is.” It was a lie, of course. He hadn't known who Coulson and his beleaguered group of spies were, but she didn't know that. 

“Then you must not watch much TV. Or maybe your memory is failing you in your old age.”

“That's not a very nice thing to say. Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?”

“I'm afraid my parents were murdered when I was young, so they never got around to teaching me that particular lesson. But even if they had, I'm sure they would make an exception for the Dark One, or do you prefer Mister Gold? Or Rasputin, maybe?”

Gold frowned, and gone was pretense at patience or civility. “Now look here young lady . . .”

“Natasha,” the redhead said getting up from her chair. “Natasha Romanoff. And I am no more a young lady then you are merely a pawn shop owner.”

“You know, you shouldn't just hand out your name like that. It's dangerous.”

“Who said I did? Like you Gold, I have many names, and masks to go along with them. In the end you'll never know who I truly am unless I tell you.”

“And how do you know about this town? This mansion?” Gold asked. There was something achingly familiar about her, he just couldn't place her. 

Natasha smirked, and made to walk past him. “How do you think?”

Using magic he slammed, and pinned her onto the wall hard enough to rattle her teeth, and cause her to lose her breath for a moment. He then walked up to her prone body.

“Who are you really? And how did you get into Storybrooke?”

Despite the pain that radiated from the back of her head where it had slammed into the wall, the look of smugness never left her face. The corners of her mouth were still upturned into a smile that rankled Rumpelstiltskin. He could feel his anger and frustration bubble and boil under his skin at this woman's audacious behavior. 

It would be so easy to rip her heart out and crush it, thus ending one nuisance. 

But he hadn't survived this long by giving into his impulses. Not only was there something familiar about this woman, there was something familiar about this house to her. Why else would she know abut this place? Why else would she come here? And most importantly; why else would she wonder the hallways with a distant look of nostalgia in her eyes?

And that's when it dawned on him.

Natasha, Natalia.

Romanoff, Romanova.

“You're from the Enchanted Forest,” he said right before releasing her to land lightly on her feet. His eyes were wide and he took several steps back as he took in her form. “You're the lost princess, Anastasia.”

“I am,” the redhead said. “But I prefer Natasha. My full name is a bit of a mouthful, wouldn't you agree?”

Gold humphed in agreement. “What are you doing here after all these years?”

“You really haven't been watching the news, have you?” Natasha said with a roll of her eyes. “I'm merely seeking shelter from the prying eyes of the media.”

“Yes, well I've been busy.”

“I'll bet you have. What schemes are you scheming now?”

“No schemes, my dear,” Gold said his arms spread wide in a placating manner. “Just me trying to make up for my past misdeeds, and trying to be a good husband.”

“Right,” Natasha said. She didn't even bother hiding her skepticism, and quirked an eyebrow at him. He was up to something, he was always up to something. The fact that she was even born was testament to that. “Why don't you just pull the other one.”

“You don't believe me? I'm hurt,” Gold said in mock pain. He placed his hand over his heart. 

“Yes, well even if I hadn't spent a number of years as a spy I would find it hard to believe anything that came out of you, or Regina's mouth. Not after what the two of you did to me.”

And for a brief moment a look of contrition washed over his face before quickly disappearing. “I'm not the one who killed your family.”

“No,” Natasha said in subdued tone. She had to press her lips together tightly for a moment to keep them from betraying the grief and anger that was always just below the surface. “No, no you didn't. But you were the catalyst, you were the catalyst for everything.”

 

\- - - - - - - 

 

“Are you sure this will work, Rasputin?” Queen Natalia of Rossiya asked. She held the vile over her head so that the sunlight from the open window could shine through the thick amber liquid. She and her husband had all but given up hope that they would ever have a little girl, but their newly appointed vizor had gone above and beyond to find this elixir.

“I made you and the king a promise, and I always keep my promises,' Rumpelstiltskin disguised as Rasputin said with a small bow. It had been ridiculously easy to get into their good graces, all he had to do was let it be known that he had a cure for the royal couple's fertility problems, and he was practically ushered into their upper echelons on a red carpet.

The hard part was getting a hold of the vibranium that was needed to enact the curse. He knew that it was tightly guarded, had known it from the start. What he hadn't counted on was for it to be impossible to get even a glimpse of, nevermind get his hands on. 

“If this does indeed work, we'll have to think of an appropriate reward for you,” the queen said, pulling Rasputin's attention back to the present. She had pocketed the vile and was looking at him with a small smirk. (The same smirk her daughter will inherit.) “Though I promise to spare you any gruesome details of conception.”

“Please, and thank you,” Rasputin with a small huff of a laugh. Inwardly, he was quivering in anticipation, for he knew exactly what he wanted as his reward, and all he had to do was be patient a little bit longer.

Nine months to be precise. 

Anastasia came into the world on the coldest day ever known to Rossiya, screaming until her face was as red as the tufts of hair on her head. She was wrapped tightly in the warmest furs, and handed to her mother and father where she quickly calmed down.

Her mother, exhausted from childbirth, and her father exhausted from worry, looked down at the small miracle as if she were the sun and stars. There were tears in both their eyes as they stared intently at the baby as if trying to memorize every inhale and exhale, every little sigh and gurgle.

“She's beautiful, Talia, perfect even,” the king said in awe. He gently stroked his daughter's cheek as if afraid applying to much pressure would cause her to shatter into pieces. “Just like her mother.”

“Flatterer, I look horrid.”

“No, right now you are the most beautiful woman there ever was.” 

Outside, the villagers who had braved the elements, were hooting and howling at finally having a little princess. While inside, standing in a corner unseen by anyone, Rasputin looked on in grim satisfaction. He was so close to getting his heart's desire, he could practically taste the vibranium.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Writing this story has really made me appreciate how much much work the writers of the show must do, especially when it comes to weaving past and present into one coherent show.

The redhead had left the mansion feeling overwhelming grief and anger, and allowed her feet to carry her where they will. Where she ended up was at a semi-secluded workshop, where an old man patiently passed on a lifetime of woodwork knowledge to his beloved little boy. 

Hiding behind a tree, Natasha paused at the scene, her face scrunched in confusion. She recognized the old man Giuseppe right away, but the boy . . . _the boy?_ . . . the last time she saw him, he was a grown man. 

A handsome, troubled man who had returned her quill, and reminded her of the promise she made to the old apprentice. 

And she wasn't sure whether she was happy that Pinocchio was getting a second chance to have his happy ending, or sad that the man who reminded her of who she was, and where she was from was gone. 

Natasha sighed to herself and turned away, allowed her feet to carry her into the forest and then into town. There was a part of her, a selfish part, that would have liked to use her quill and book to wish for August back, even for a moment. She was feeling uncharacteristically lost and lonely, and she could have used some of his kindhearted wisdom. But after watching father and son happy in their reunion, she couldn't bring herself to do it. 

She would not be the one who disturbs their hard earned tranquility with reminders of a painful past. 

It wasn't long before her footfalls were being echoed by a second set. They were heavier than hers, and she would recognize the gait anywhere.

“Nikolai, I was wondering when you'd make an appearance.”

“Took you long enough for you to realize I was there. I've been following you since you left the mansion,” former director Nick Fury said. He took his place beside his former ward as they walked along barely used trails. He was dressed head to toe in black, heavy layers despite the fact that it was practically summer. 

The only reason that he hadn't jumped Rumpelstiltskin and ripped his heart out when he had threatened Natasha was because he knew that there was something wrong with it. One cannot practice the dark arts for as long as he had and not suffer dire consequences.

His eyes, one good, one bad, were hidden by large wraparound sunglasses. But Natasha could still feel the full weight of his stare as he studied her form, noting her emotional state: her downcast eyes, her drawn mouth, and clenched jaw.

“I knew you were there,” she said finally, flatly. Shoving her hands into coat pockets she turned to him. “I'm just curious as to why you're here. I thought you said you never wanted to see these people again.”

“I don't, that's why I'm here, and not there,” he said pointing to the heart of Storybrooke with his chin. 

“So, you still don't trust me,” Natasha said in a low voice that was thick with hurt. “Making sure I deliver your precious cargo? Is that all I am to you? A carrier pigeon?”

“No, and you know that.”

“Do I?”

“Natasha,” Fury said coming to a stop. He grabbed her arm so that she would be forced to stop and listen to him. “Before you defected to SHIELD you worked for the KGB, and before that Leviathan which were both in cahoots with HYDRA. Moreover you were . . . programmed by them to be their best female asset. There was noway for me to know that there wasn't some kind of trigger in your head just waiting for the right word from either Pierce or Zola.”

The redhead wrenched her arm away, and began walking. “I know. Dammit, I know. But it still doesn't mean it hurts any less, Nikolai. We were family once, the only family either of us knew. That should have counted for something!”

And the expression on her face was open and raw in a way she would never dare to show another living being. 

“I know,” Fury said. He caught up to Natasha easily. “You know, you haven't called me that name in along time.”

“Not since we came to this world, and were separated,” Natasha said. “I guess I'm feeling nostalgic. This whole town is making me nostalgic.”

“Then why haven't you gone in? There are plenty of people who miss you. They would welcome you with open arms despite your sins.”

Natasha humphed. “Well, maybe I don't feel as if I deserve to be welcomed back. Besides you're one to talk. You don't think Snow and Charming would like to see you?”

“Probably. But, just because they'd be happy to see me, doesn't mean I'd be happy to see them.” There was under current of anger in his tone, and his fists were clenched tightly by his sides. “I'm not ready to forgive them; I'm not ready to forgive any of them.”

“What makes you think I forgive them?”

“They're still alive, aren't they? Regina, and Rumpelstiltskin to be specific. And you've been here how many times?”

“At least a half dozen times,” Natasha admitted. 

“You're a master sniper. If you had really wanted them dead, they would have been years ago when your memories first started coming back, and the pain was fresh. No one would have been the wiser, but something held you back.”

Natasha frowned, but didn't respond, she didn't want to admit it aloud, but the old man was right. She remembered staring through the scope of a rifle, the cross-hairs aimed directly at a an unsuspecting Regina's head on more than one occasion. She remembered the feel of the metal trigger as her finger started to pull it.

But, Natasha could not bring herself to pull the trigger, which made no sense at all to her. She was a monster after all, killing the woman who had murdered her family should have been the easiest thing in the world for her to do.

“So, why did you come here if it wasn't to check up on me, and it wasn't to have a drink and reminiscence about the 'good old days' with the fellows at Granny's.”

Nick allowed the subject to changed. “Just because you're not a kid anymore, doesn't mean I don't worry about your welfare.”

“Well, I'm fine. And I'll pass on your stupid cube to Coulson.”

“Yeah, you sound great: you look better,” Fury said, not believing one word she said. “You know once you finish with Phil, you can always join me. There are plenty of HYDRA splinter cells still in need of extermination. It would sort of be like the old days, except we'd be the ones doing the chasing.”

“No,” Natasha said after barely any thought. But her expression was soft, and there was a small smile adorning her lips. The offer was tempting though. The thought of disappearing once she handed over the cube would be safe and easy. She could be whatever she wanted, whatever she needed to be to fulfill her mission.

But it would all be fake. And she was tired of telling lies, especially to herself.

“I think its time for me to stop living under layers of covers and lies, I think it's time for me to figure out who I am, and more importantly who I want to be.”

They stopped at the edge of the woods and in the distance they could see the lights from a house. The sun was slowly setting and a blanket of gray dusk was covering the land. Fury pulled the redhead in rough hug, and she wrapped tentative arms around him closing her eyes, and burying her face in his chest. 

“I may not have always trusted you, but I have always believed in you. I believe that you are every bit the hero that Captain America is, now go and prove it.”

Nick pulled away quickly, and gave Natasha a not so gentle shove towards the town. She cast him one last long look before turning her back and heading into Storybrooke where her destiny, whatever the hell that was, was waiting for her.

 

##########

 

The Furies of Rossiya were a group of hardened and fierce warriors that were feared and respected in equal parts by the citizens of the small northern nation. And their reputation for being masters of all matter of weapons and terrain warfare had even managed to spread south to the Enchanted Forest.

But there was none more feared, more respected, or more skilled and experienced in combat than Nikolai. He was the oldest of all the Furies, and there were a plethora of stories and rumors about his prowess, many of which bordered, if not outright, crossed the line of plausibility.

He once wrestled a grizzly bear with one hand tied behind his back, they said. He once outran an Amur tiger, and stared down a wolverine, and he could kill a horde of ogres with nothing but a small knife.

Because of this people tended to give a wide berth. 

Anastasia never received the memo though. She stared up at the dark man with unblinking, curious eyes.

“Look kid, I'm here to teach you how to be a warrior. I'm not going to coddle you just cuz you're a kid. I'm not going to take it easy on you just cuz your parents are king and queen. It's going to be hard and grueling, and I expect you to give your all every single day. Understand?”

The little princess straightened her eight-year-old spine. A look of grim determination came over her, and in a blink of an eye she went from a precocious little girl to a knight in training.

“I understand. I want to be a great knight so that I can protect my country, and my people. That's why I asked my parents to ask you to train me. They said you would be too harsh and that I should start slow, but I told them I wanted to be trained by the best. And I wanted to be trained right away.”

That took him by surprise. Nikolai stared down at the little girl who in turn stared up at him with defiant green eyes. He thought her parents were merely throwing their money around because they could, because having a Fury train their daughter would be a feather in their cap amongst the other royals.

“I need to see your heart,” Nikolai said suddenly.

“My . . . my heart?” Anastasia asked. Nervously she touched her chest, as her face crumbled into uncertainty. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

She had heard stories of how the Dark One could pull someone's heart out, and either use it to control them, or just outright crush it, causing a quick but painful death.

Nikolai knelt down in front of the princess. He was all edges and hard lines, but in that moment there was also a gentle kindness. He had seen something in the glint of her eyes that made him reevaluate his earlier assessment. Now, he just needed proof.

“I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to see your heart for one minute,” he said as he reached his hand out. He could have easily overpowered the girl and taken it, but if this mentor/student relationship was going to work, they needed to trust each other implicitly. 

Anastasia seemed to understand that, she slowly lowered her hand and before she knew it he was holding her young heart in his calloused hand. He stared at it intently, shifting it around to look at it from different angles. His grip was gentle, and when he found what he was looking for he let out a small grunt of approval. 

There, in the center buried under the bright red was a drop of gold the size of mustard seed. 

“What is that?” she asked. The redhead was slightly awed at seeing her own heart, but she was also confused as to what the gold meant.

Nikolai shoved the heart back where it belonged. He stood, wiped his hands off on his pants, and to Anastasia's surprise took her hand in his as they walked back to the castle. His whole demeanor had changed in an instant, and there was a strange glint in his eyes as if he had hit the lottery, but couldn't believe his luck.

“Do you know the legend of the Northern Star?”

The little girl nodded, every child in the kingdom knew it.

There once was a great warrior whose heart instead of being shades of red, was gold and was as bright as the stars. It was said that not only was he brave and true, he was strong and cunning, able to trick gods, and tame beasts. He was the one who created the Furies so that even when he was gone, there would be noble warriors to protect his home country.

His adventures were legendary, and every child dreamt of riding with him on one of his quests.

And right before he died he took out his heart and threw it into the sky so that all would be able to know the true path.

“But what does that have to do with me?”

“That mustard seed of gold is from the Northern Star, it means you have the potential to be on of the greatest warriors to ever live.”

Anastasia was shocked silent at the implications, and allowed herself to be led back home. 

All she wanted to do was to be able to protect her family, her friends, and her people. She wasn't looking to become some kind of superhero.

She still remembered Regina from her birthday two weeks prior, she looked at her brother like he was something she wanted to consume, and Snow like someone she wanted to kill. But mostly she remembered how the older woman had practically licked her chops when she found out the royal crowns were made of vibranium. 

“We'll start your training at the crack of dawn,” he said. “I'm still not going to take it easy on you.”

Anastasia nodded, she knew the risks in asking a man like Nikolai to train her. But she also knew  
that she had to become strong, and quickly. 

Nikolai was her only hope of accomplishing that.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was dipping low, casting the interior of Regina's office red and orange. She was almost done with her work and was looking forward to seeing her son, and enjoying a quiet evening in. Now that 'Project Mongoose' was a go, she felt as if she were taking a positive step towards acquiring her happy ending.

But despite her content mood, she was not in the mood to put up with Gold and his riddles.

“Who's back?” she asked through gritted teeth. She watched with shrinking patience as her old mentor paced back and forth in front of her desk. It was very rare to see him in such a state, and if it had been any other time she would have taken pleasure in teasing him. But she really did want to finish her work and get home to Henry, which meant her patience was at a premium.

“The lost princess. You know the one who's parents and brother you killed for defending Snow's claim to the throne?”

Regina frowned as a look of regret came over her whenever she thought of her past. “You're going to have to be more specific Gold. I killed quite a few parents and brothers who defended Snow.”

“Anastasia,” Gold said slow and precise, making each syllable a dagger to his former pupil's heart. His pacing stopped, and he stared at his former student. He watched as her face crumbled slightly as unbidden memories came to mind.

“Have you seen her? Why is she here? Where is she?”

“How else do you think I knew who she was? I met her at the sorcerer's mansion yesterday,” he said as he took up his pacing again. “As for why she's here: she claimed to be merely seeking refuge like her fellow SHIELD agents. But I don't believe her.”

“You think she's after revenge?”

“Why else? She's amassing a small army of highly skilled warriors, 'agents' they call themselves, and then once they've situated themselves she'll arrive to lead them.”

Regina rolled her eyes. That was just about the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, there was no way that Clint would ever be part of a plot to kill her. Gold was just allowing his paranoia to cloud his mind.

(Or at least that was what she hoped, it would break her heart to know all those acts of kindness were merely ploys to get her to lower her guard.)

“Why didn't you come to me sooner? You said you met her last night. She could be anywhere by now.”

“She's staying at Granny's, and hasn't left her room since. As for why I didn't come sooner . . . well I needed to do some research. It seems our long lost princess has been quite busy in this world. The internet is practically brimming with stories of both the Black Widow's villainy and heroism.”

“Get to the point Gold.”

Seemingly out of nowhere he pulled out a thick manilla folder, and plopped it front of the mayor. Regina gingerly flipped the cover open and proceeded to skim through page after page. He was right, the little princess had been busy in this world, amassing a rather dismal and impressive kill list, with no discrimination for sex, race, age or innocence. Her penchant for killing, and her talent for torture would have won Regina's respect if she hadn't been doing her best to remove herself from her evil queen persona. 

Still, it was little wonder Rumpelstiltskin was nervous. 

But, despite all that, something didn't smell right, she was a superhero, wasn't she? Henry had said so, had pointed the redhead out to her on numerous occasions, which meant revenge would be, should be, out of the question.

“You're being ridiculous, Gold. The Black Widow is an Avenger, and last I heard they were superheroes. Revenge is not suppose to be in their vocabulary.”

“Just because it's not suppose to, doesn't mean it isn't. You've seen with your own eyes that even someone as pure as Mary Margret has darkness in them if pushed hard enough.”

He had a point, Regina thought to herself reluctantly. She closed the folder and leaned back in her seat. So much for going home soon.

“So, what do you intend on doing?”

“I don't trust her.

“Well, that much is obvious.”

“Can't you have her arrested?”

“For what? Making you uncomfortable? I should give her a medal for that.”

“Very funny,” Gold said with a frown, and resumed his pacing. “You may not be worried about the lost princess but I am. And I plan on keeping an eye on her. And when she does do something, you'll owe me for keeping the town safe.”

He left after that in a plume of black smoke, and Regina sighed deeply as she ran a hand through her hair. As if she didn't have enough on her plate already, now she had to deal with the mystery of why Anastasia was here, and what her true motivations for being here were. 

 

######### 

 

Coulson was a patient man, he had to be considering the kind of people he dealt with on a day to day basis. But even his patience was starting to wear thin. 

It's been two months since the fall of SHIELD, and all its secrets were spilled to the world to see. 

It's been a month and three weeks since he had received a cryptic letter from Natasha containing coordinates to a town that by all rights shouldn't even exist, but did, and instructions on how to enter.

Since then the redhead had not once contacted them, and if it hadn't been for the senate hearings a week prior, they wouldn't have even known if she were alive. 

“So what's the plan.” Melinda asked. The two senior agents were sitting in a booth at Granny's. Their respective dinners were untouched for the moment as they discussed the business of the day. “How long are we going to wait for Nat?”

“As long as it takes,” Phil said. He took a sip of root beer before continuing. “We're safe here, this town doesn't exist on any map I've ever seen. So I say we wait and let the world calm down a bit.”

“And that's it?”

“What else is there to do? We have no money, no base of operations, no equipment . . .”

“All right, I get it. Still, I'm worried about her, I've lost track of how many times I called her, and I haven't received even a text from her.”

“So am I. But I trust Nat, if anyone can survive, it's her.”

“I know, and I trust her too. But I'm really getting tired of waiting,” Agent May said. “And this town is . . .”

Melinda shuddered slightly as she looked around the diner. 

“Weird? Creepy? Clint says the residence of this town are all characters from fairy tales.”

“Yes, well I think we've established that Clint has suffered one too many blows to the head.”

“You don't believe in fairy tales? Even after everything we've seen?”

“Aliens are one thing, happily ever after is another,” Melinda quirked an eyebrow at her boss. “Don't tell me you believe in them?”

“I don't think fairy tales are that far removed from superheroes. And I know they exist, we've both seen them with our own eyes, we've both fought along side them. Hell, you were this close to becoming one yourself,” Coulson said, his thumb and forefinger pinched close together.. “So why does one get to exist, and not the other?”

Melinda shook her head in disbelief. In truth she was a little jealous of Phil, there was something endearing, and annoying about his unjaded view of the world.

“I'm not a superhero, and neither is Natasha. She's a pain in the butt drama queen waiting to make her big entrance. And speaking of which . . .”

“What?”

Melinda pointed with her chin to right, and Phil had to twist his body around to see what she was looking at. His eyes widened for a second in stunned surprise before he quickly scrambled out the booth to the redheaded subject of their conversation. 

“Natasha,” he said by way of greeting before pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. Melinda followed suite in more sate manner giving the younger woman a curt nod.

“It's about time you got here,” the dark-haired woman said.

“Yeah, well traffic was a real bitch, and the senate wasn't much better,” Natasha said as she extracted herself from Coulson's embrace, and was ushered into their booth. 

Moments later Ruby came by and took her order, only pausing when she caught Natasha's scent. When she and Clint had first come into the diner years prior, Ruby saw them first and foremost as exotic strangers from the far off land of Washington DC. There was nothing about the redhead that was familiar, or that tickled at the back of her mind. 

But now, with the curse broken, and all her memories returned, there was something familiar about the woman. Memories that hadn't seen the light of day in ages were starting to slowly percolate in her mind.

A redheaded little girl . . . solemn green eyes . . . shoulders slumped with grief . . . the scent of ice and snow even during summer. 

“Ruby!” 

“Sorry, Granny, I was just . . .”

“Just what? Staring off into space?”

“No, I . . . I think I just saw a ghost.”

Granny's expression quickly changed from stern disciplinarian to concerned relative when she saw just how deathly white Ruby's face was. She pulled her granddaughter aside, away from the prying eyes of the rest the diner, and into her office where she offered the younger girl a chair.

“Now, what is this all about?”

“Natasha, I know she's been here before. But, this time was different,” Ruby said as she stared down at her feet, a look of disbelief painted brightly across her face. “I could be wrong, I only caught a small whiff, but there was something definitely familiar about her scent.”. 

“Familiar, how?”

“I think she's from the enchanted forest,” Ruby replied. She looked up at her granny, her expression had changed from disbelief to cautious hope. She really wanted to be right, she really wanted to believe that that little orphaned girl grew into an amazing woman who was also a superhero. “I think she's the lost princess: I think she's Anastasia.”

And now it was Granny's turn to stare in disbelief, she had been the one to sign her into her room last night, and there had been nothing familiar about her scent. “You're kidding.”

“I could be wrong, but I'm not kidding.”

Granny frowned, but took the order slip from the younger woman, and bade her to stay put until she returned. She, herself, prepared the redhead's meal and brought it to the table where she apologized for the lateness, her granddaughter wasn't feeling well. While she did this, Granny made sure to give Natasha a good whiff, and barely made it back to her office.

“You're right, Ruby,” Granny said once the door was safely closed behind her. The older woman's face was wide-eyed with disbelief. “That is Anastasia.”


	7. Chapter 7

The moon shone fat and full over the Enchanted Forest. But even in the darkness of the night, there were still signs of activity. Sounds of nature could be heard: crickets chirped, a breeze rustled through the trees, and wolves howled in the distance. Only one sound was out of place, and that was the sound of a little girl quietly crying.

Anastasia sat on a fallen log with her back to the sleeping forms of the others, and tried to muffle the sounds of her heart wrenching weeping.

“Anastasia? Honey, are you okay?”

The little redhead quickly rubbed the tears from her face, but it did nothing to lessen the puffy redness of her eyes and nose. When Anastasia looked up, she saw Snow coming towards her, concern and worry were deeply etched within the furrows of her brow. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up,” the little princess said with sniffle. She couldn't do anything right, not even cry quietly.

“No, you didn't wake me up; I couldn't sleep.” And it was true, her years of being on the run had made her a light sleeper, and even the slightest disturbance was enough to wake her. Snow took the seat next to the young redhead and gathered her into her arms. “It's okay to be sad, Anastasia. It's okay to cry, no one will think any less of you.”

“But it's all my fault,” the little girl said. Fresh tears fell down her face, Snow quickly pulled the child closer so that her voice was muffled by Snow's shoulder. “If I had been stronger, I could have protected everyone.”

“Oh honey, that's not your job.”

“Yes, it is! I'm the first knight of the realm. It's my job to protect my family and people, and I failed.” 

“But you're also a child. And the Evil Queen is very powerful, even I'm not always able to protect my love ones from her.”

This did nothing assuage the redhead's guilt and anger at her own helplessness. She buried her face further into Snow's shoulder, and allowed the older woman to hold her, and whisper comforting words in to ear. 

“Does the pain ever go away?” Anastasia said after a long moment. “It feels like my heart is being ripped in half. I feel like I'm all alone.”

“Oh no, no, you're not alone,” the raven-haired princess said. “You have me and Charming, and Nikolai, and Red and Granny. You're not alone, I promise, and you never will be.”

 

######## 

 

Storybrooke may not be the smallest town in the world, but news could still travel at lightning speeds. As soon as she confirmed Anastasia's identity, Granny immediately got on the phone to Mary Margret, who told her husband, who told Emma and the dwarfs, and from there it would spread to the rest of the town.

Natasha had seen the glint of recognition in Ruby's eyes, and then in Granny's, so it came as absolutely no surprise to her that ten minutes after receiving her dinner, the bell over the diner's door jingled.

It came as absolutely no surprise that when she looked up she saw Mary Margret and David standing not five feet from the entrance frozen to the spot, and staring at her like she was a ghost.

“Anastasia?” Mary Margret asked, her voice thick with emotion. “Is that really you?”

The redhead gave one last look at the remainder of her dinner, gathered her courage, and slid out of the booth. She pointedly ignored the confused looks she received from Melinda and Phil, and made her way hesitantly towards the couple. (She was going to have a lot of explaining to do once things settled.)

“I go by Natasha Romanoff now. But yeah, it's me.” There was a uncharacteristic sheepishness about the way she carried herself. Her throat felt dry, and she had to swallow several times. She could feel her stomach twist into knots, her palms felt sweaty, and there was a little voice in the back of her head that screamed for her to run away, that she was unworthy of being here, of having these people's love.

But she didn't, and before long she was being surrounded by both sides in an embrace that should have been suffocating, but wasn't. 

“Where have you been?” Charming asked pulling away slightly, his arms were wrapped around the redhead and his wife forming a small, tight circle. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and he couldn't help but stare at Natasha in shock and wonder. “How long have you been here? Why didn't you come sooner? And where is Nikolai?”

“David!” Mary Margret admonished lightheartedly. There was a stray tear that had made its way down her cheek, and she sniffed a time a time or two, but there was no hiding the joy in her face at seeing the little princess. “Let her get a word in edgewise.”

“That's okay. I've been around . . . keeping busy,” Natasha said. Her tone was hesitant, evasive. She was torn between wanting to tell them everything and nothing. “I haven't been in town for very long, and as for Nikolai, he doesn't want to see you.”

“He still blames us for everything, doesn't he?” Mary Margret asked. And she couldn't help but stare at Natasha. It was so surreal to go from seeing her as a little girl with skinned knees and elbows to seeing her as a graceful, powerful woman.

“Yes, and he has a very long memory when it comes to things like that. You know how stubborn and prideful he can be. There's still a part of him that believes if you hadn't sought refuge in Rossiya, my parents would have been alive today.”

David sighed, and gave a rueful shake of his head. He didn't know how much time had passed since they had last seen each other, but he had hoped that Nikolai's anger would have dissipated by now.

“And what about you?” David asked.

“Me? I think there was a time I was angry at you as well. This world . . .this world hasn't always been kind to me,” Natasha said with a small tremor, because that was pretty much the understatement of the century. 

“But after a while I realized regardless of whether you had come or not, Regina and Rumpelstiltskin would have attacked. They would have destroyed my kingdom, because there was no way that my parents would have given them even an once of pure vibranium, never mind a pound. They knew they would have used it for some evil purpose, and they would have had no regrets about sacrificing their lives to protect all the realms.” 

“Your parents would be very proud of you, if they knew you were following in their footsteps,” Mary Margret said. “You're a superhero!”

She pulled the redhead in a hug, and Natasha returned it full force, and with interest. She was still nervous about how they would react to her past sins if they were to find out, but for now she would soak in the warmth of this moment, and deal with the rest latter.

And while Natasha enjoyed her reunion, Coulson and May shared a look of open confusion. They both knew that there were large sections of Natasha's past that were beyond top secret to everyone but Fury, that her files were filled with pages of redacted information, but this was something else entirely. 

They watched quietly as she spoke to the Charmings in hushed tones about things that made absolutely no sense to the SHIELD agents. They watched as they hugged, and wiped away stray tears, their expressions seemingly contradicting itself because they were both smiling and crying. And then they watched as Granny and Ruby joined the reunion. There were even more tears, and hugs, and watery smiles, especially on Natasha's part.

There was something that was both alien and off putting about seeing the redhead so open with her emotions. They knew she had them obviously, she wasn't a robot, but aside from a few small slips here and there, she always played them close to her chest. 

But the way she was reacting to these people, it was as if they hadn't seen each other in decades.

And that wasn't possible, Coulson thought with a frown. Right? 

Natasha was 30-years-old, Russian born and bred. As far as he knew, she had no prior ties to anything American until she met Clint nearly 10 years ago.

But then again, could you really call a city that didn't exist American?

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Melinda said quietly as she watched the scene. “Isn't that suppose to be Snow White and Prince Charming?”

“It is. And they called her Anastasia.”

“What the hell is going on here, Phil? I feel like I'm in the twilight zone.”

Phil didn't respond, but his mind was reeling. _What was going on here? How, and why did Natasha know these people?_

There was a mystery going on here, and he was determined to figure it out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: I know I'm horrible at updating, and I apologize profusely. But I promise you, I have not given up on this story! There's a lot going on between work and everything else that sometimes I don't get to write as often as I'd like. 
> 
> Also, am I the only one a little disappointed that Sam doesn't have his Redwing? Anyway, I tried to fix it as best I could. I would love to hear what you think.

Steve looked down at the piece of paper, and then up, and then down again, and then up. Frustration was writ large on on his face as he ran a hand through his his hair for what felt like the millionth time in the past hour. He knew that Natasha liked to yank his chain for shits and giggles sometimes, but this was ridiculous.

“Okay, you're seeing what I'm seeing, right?” he asked Sam.

“Uh, if you mean absolutely nothing but empty road, then yes, I'm seeing exactly what you're seeing.” 

Sam and Steve had driven fruitlessly up and down this stretch of road, at least a half dozen times. They weren't sure what they were looking for, Natasha's note was cryptically sparse when it came to specific details. But the two men had assumed that the coordinates were to an actual place, a city or town or even just a secluded safe-house, what they got instead was woods, woods, and lots of open road leading to nowhere. 

Pacing back and forth, the blond held the note over his head as the sun shone through it, maybe there was something hidden in the message that he was missing. Sam watched bemused as his partner moved the sheet of paper around like one of those old-school rabbit-ear antenna, like somehow if he could get just the right angle the answers would appear. It wasn't until he hit a particular spot that something happened.

Frozen in place Steve watches as more words appeared right before his very eyes. Sam quickly left his spot on the side of the road, and joined his friend. They stared at the postscript in stunned silence, read and reread the single sentence to themselves several times not believing their eyes even though it was right there in black and white.

“Crazy Russian,” Sam muttered with a laugh. “Seriously, you know she's crazy?”

Steve looked over his shoulder at the younger man. A part of him wanted to admonish Sam for that comment, but yeah he was right. This was crazy, she was crazy, and considering he has a Norse god on his contact list, that was saying something.

“P.S.,” Sam read aloud because why not? They flew and then drove all this way, they might as well go all the way. “Read these words out loud: 'Open Seasame'.”

You got to be kidding me, Steve thought, and was about to roll his eyes in exasperation. But as soon as the words left Sam's mouth, something miraculous happened. It was like a veil had been lifted, and where once there was open road leading to nowhere, there was now a road leading to a quaint seaside Maine town. A town sign on the side of the road was now visible welcoming the two stunned men to Storybrooke.

“Okay, you're seeing what I'm seeing, right?” Sam asked the question this time, he wasn't laughing anymore. His eyes were wide in disbelief, and his mouth hung slightly open. 

Steve nodded his head, for the moment he was completely speechless.

Where the hell did you send us, Natasha? Steve thought.

“Come on, let's go,” Steve said finally and with a shake of his head. He didn't know how this magic, or whatever it was would last. They needed to get over the town line, and quick, just in case it only lasted a few moments. He ran over to their rental car, jumped into their car, and started the engine. Sam sensing his friend's urgency followed suit, but there was a reluctance to his actions as he took his place in passenger side, and buckled his seat-belt.

The black man knew there was aliens and alien gods from the attack on New York, but he hadn't been there. To him it was something he had seen on TV, there was a degree of separation between him and the events. This was different, this was him and a whole lot of freaky weirdness up close and personal.

“Are you sure about this?” the younger man asked. He trusted Steve implicitly, saving the world and then spending months on the road watching each other's back did that to you. And he even trusted Natasha to a certain extant, but this was something different.

Something weird and alien.

Something they didn't cover in Air Force training, or anywhere else for that matter.

“I told Natasha that I trusted her to save my life,” Steve said. “And I trust her in this as well, whatever this is.”

“Well all right,” Sam said with a small smirk. “Let's find a place to stay, and hope they accept American currency, because I'm ready to drop.”

 

############

 

There were birds in the enchanted forest, but not just any birds. These were magical, mystical creatures that existed nowhere else but in the Enchanted Forest. These birds when they reached adulthood would fly from their nest in search of their human partner. 

When they did find their partner they would bond with them for life. However long the human lived so too did his partner, and when the human died so too did their bird. 

This was how it had always been, no bird had ever been without a partner, until now.

Like all his brethren and ancestors, Redwing flew out into the Enchanted Forest. He flew over forests and plains, rivers and deserts, mountains and valleys, tiny villages and large bustling cities. He visited everyone from the wisest of humans all the way down to the dumbest of dragons. 

Despite his efforts, not one of them called out to him, and as the years went by he began to despair that he would ever find his partner.

“Snow, look! Is that one of the Red Falcons?” 

Roused from a light nap, Redwing looked down from his perch to find a small human child staring back at him. She was small, rail thin with bright red hair and lively green eyes, and she was staring at him excitedly, her mouth pulled back into a grin.

He reached out to her with his mind hoping he had found his partner, only to be met with disappointment. 

The child was quickly joined by an older woman with black hair and wearing the clothes of an outdoors woman, and with a bow and arrow slung over her back. Looking up at his perch, Redwing could see the dawning of recognition spread across her face as she confirmed the child's guess. 

Snow White wasn't his partner either, but at least he knew he could have a proper conversation with her.

“Hello, are you lost?” the older princess asked. “Where's your partner?”

He sent to Snow a bubble of thought telling who he was, and why he had no partner. He explained how he had been looking all over for years, and that he had yet to find them, and how he was beginning to think that he never would. This information was then passed onto the little girl, and by the end he was met with twin faces of concern and empathy.

“That's terrible! But you shouldn't give up hope, Redwing,” Anastasia said. “When I was a little girl I was told that my soul-mate was in a land without magic. Maybe that's where your partner is. Maybe you should come with us. Would that be okay, Snow?”

“If he wants to come with us, that would be fine with me. And I doubt the others would mind either.”

Redwing shifted slightly on his branch shifting anxiously as he tried gauge the true intentions of the females below. He could sense nothing but a genuine desire to be of help and comfort to him in his time of despair. But there was something particular and unexplainable about the redhead that screamed to him to trust her, to follow her.

Charming, Nikolai and Red returned sometime later with food and water to the news that they would be having an addition to their little party.


End file.
